


on a day out and into the night now

by quicksilvergoodbyes



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Caulscott - Freeform, F/M, Friendship, Nightmares, Phone Calls, Platonic Relationships, Self Harm, the one where nathan calls his friends in the middle of the night, the one where nathan has nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-26
Updated: 2015-08-26
Packaged: 2018-04-17 09:56:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4662354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quicksilvergoodbyes/pseuds/quicksilvergoodbyes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>in which nathan has nightmares and calls his friends in the middle of the night</p>
            </blockquote>





	on a day out and into the night now

_He is crisp lace, stiff against flesh and bone. He is meat, stripped and rotting in the summer sunlight. Viscera, fascia, nihilism all packed within skin. Nervous system on fire, smoke filled lungs, his finger on the trigger. The gun is cold, sleek metal that his fingers clutch tighter the moment he seems to register it. His lips chapped, his tongue thick. God, he could vomit any moment now._

_He could feel fingernails running over his back, digging in sharp points. He could feel the dragging, his skin tearing from the layer under it. He choked once, twice. The gun felt heavy as he lifted it, kissing the barrel. The cold burned against his skin as he inhaled, putting the gun to his head. He has long since tired of playing his game with himself. He pulled the trigger._

 

* * *

 

Nathan Prescott woke up in his bed, a shaking wreck. His breathing was deep, gasping as if he couldn't get enough air. God, he hated this more than anything. The whale sounds did nothing to help him when it happened. He rolled over, almost laughing to himself as he checked the time. 3:52 am. Great, fantastic, fabulous. 

His scars burned, they always burned after a dream like that. He bit his lip, glancing over his wrists. Fingernail marks, as usual. He could feel the gagging coming and he reached for his phone. He hit the first contact he could, the ringing from the phone matching the ringing in his ears. 

"Nate? Bro, do you know what time it is? It's like... Late. Are you blazed again?" Hayden's voice was loud and clear in his ears, despite the groggy tone of his voice, and he let out a choked gasp. He couldn't reply, not now. Hayden was quiet.

"I'll be over soon, brah."

The unlocked door was waiting when Hayden exited his own dorm. He couldn't hear Nathan, not yet at least. Seeing him was another case. Nathan was sitting on his bed, knees pulled up to his chest. He looked tired and sick, something that made Hayden pause for a moment before entering. He could see Nathan's hands, and the blood under his fingernails. Part of him ached.

"Let's check you out."

 

* * *

 

 

_He is charred bone and teeth rotting out of his skull. Vomit is sharp and acidic on his tongue, dribbling down his chin. He exhales black acrid smoke that clings to his tongue and chokes out his lungs. There is fire behind his eyes and a throbbing in his head. He cannot breathe, fingertips singed and burnt down to bone. He cannot stop shaking, biting his own tongue off and swallowing it down. He is sick._

_There's bells ringing in his head, a loud cacophony that stung every time it chimed. His tongue is gone and there's so much blood, he can feel his burnt fingertips smearing the blood down his lips. He can feel the gagging coming again, quick and bitter on his bleeding mouth. Every breath hurt, every blink throbbed. His entire body tightens in pain, his entire body on fire. God, he hated these nights the most. He had nights like that a lot._

 

* * *

 

 

He dials Victoria because he doesn't know what else to do. He's crying and his gasping sobs are enough for her to hang up the phone before she had responded. She's already shrugging a jacket onto her shoulders and out the door by the time he manages to put his phone down. It's not the first time she's come like this and part of her knew it wouldn't be the last. Her knuckles hit the door hard and it's already open.

Her face softened when she saw his,  tears streaming down his face. She was sitting on his bed before the door had time to close completely. 

"Nathan..." She was quiet, her tone soft and calming.

"I know. I know I said it would be the last time, but I needed..." 

She doesn't say a word and merely nods, laying her hand over one of his.

"I understand. I always understand."

 

* * *

 

 

 

_He is trapped in a coffin and the space feels so tight that he can't breathe. His fingernails are raw and worn against the torn silk covering on the wood. His blood smeared on the lid and his lower jaw gone. His tongue flops free and he can't feel the pain anymore. His eyes sting, but tears don't come to his eyes. He can feel his blood boiling and his lungs filling with fluids he can't name. God, he hated himself._

_His skin is rotting off quicker than he can process. It's so hot, he's breathing smoke and coughing blood. He can feel birds pecking at him, tearing one eye out before the other. Picking at his tongue, biting flesh off to choke down and devour. He craves raw meat, shoved down his throat and into his collapsing stomach. He's sweating and the flames are licking at his skin, the smell filling the room._  
  
_Purification, putrefaction._

 

* * *

 

 

He is awake and immediately sick, vomiting into his small trash can. It doesn't stop until the contents of his stomach are all out and he's dry heaving. He's left reaching for his phone, his fingers searching for it on the floor. His fingers catch on a corner and he drags it closer to him. He doesn't look when he presses a contact.

He doesn't look when he presses the phone to his ear, sweating bullets. He can't tell if he's crying or not.

"Please come, please. I can't be alone, please come be with me. I'm sick."

There is no reply before the line goes dark. He drops his phone and holds his head in his hands.

His door is open when she's standing in it and all he can do is stare at her. She's still in her pajamas, her hair a mess. He stares at her legs before looking up to meet her eyes. She looked scared.

"...Nathan?" She was cautious, stepping into the room just a bit. He didn't look away, he hardly moved at all. 

"Are you... still getting sick?"

"No."

She reached out and took the garbage can, holding it a distance from her and exiting the room. He put his hand over his eyes, taking a deep breath and leaning back. Max came back shortly after, setting the cleaned garbage can down in the corner and turning to him. 

Tears rolled down his face, a shaky exhale slipping between his lips. She stepped back a bit, glancing away as if unsure she should see this.

"I didn't mean to call you. I didn't want you to know."

"Do you want me to go?"

He shook his head, reaching for a bottle of water on his nightstand. He took a large drink of it, shuddering. He set it back down before moving over in his bed.

"Please don't go."

She stayed.

 

* * *

 

 

The sun was warm on his skin, the grass tickling the back of his neck. He could feel her breath on him, steady and low. His fingers found hers, and he locked them together. He was in love. He was so in love and he felt bliss. Talk of sickness and medication was for another day, he would think as he rolled onto his side. He had to live in the now.

Her skin was soft, the flowers around her in full bloom. A gentle breeze blew over the both of them, stirring their hair up. 

"I love you."

"Where did that come from?"

"I was just thinking."

"Oh. I love you too."

He smiled.

**Author's Note:**

> Is that last part a dream or reality? No one knows.


End file.
